


Dead Eyes

by baby_doll (angel_bubbles)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Attempted Murder, Biracial Character, Multi, Murder, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Violence, eventually, i show my love for my favorite characters by making them into killers, kuroko is half chinese, mostly canon compliant except kuroko is secretly a murdering psychopath, serial killer kuroko, yandere kuroko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_bubbles/pseuds/baby_doll
Summary: With eyes as blank as a corpse's, it's really no wonder he turned out this way.Or, Kuroko discovers that killing is the only way he's able to feel much of anything.





	1. Faker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symptoms of psychopathy vary from person to person, but some traits are extremely common among the whole of them.

Kuroko Tetsuya was never like other kids his age.

They played, and babbled, and made friends with each other, all while Kuroko sat aside and observed in silence. Despite prompting from the adults around him, not once did he speak to any of the other children. He only stared at them, his face vacant and eyes blank, until he was pulled away by a teacher for frightening them. 

His parents constantly worried about him. They took him to doctor after doctor in a vain attempt to find what was troubling him. To the doctors, it just seemed like he was experiencing slow development, and his emotions would manifest themselves over time. However, as months passed without so much as a single twinge of feeling, it became obvious there was something else ailing him, and he was institutionalized with a psychiatrist.

The longer he stayed at the hospital, the more annoyed he became with the constant questioning and unwanted visits. Eventually, his way out became apparent to him. 

He had to fake it.

And so he did. He dedicated hours to watching the people around him, and imitating their responses to varying stimuli. After a couple of weeks, he was successfully able to convince the doctors that whatever had been afflicting him was gone, and he could feel the same things they could. He was released just two months after being detained there.

~~

His parents became wary of him. Though he seemed to act fairly normal for a child his age, he always had a strange look in his eyes. It was as if he wasn't really there, like he was watching the world unfold from behind glass. Even when he sobbed while watching sad movies, smiled when being hugged by his mother, and hissed when he scuffed his knees, his eyes were always blank. It was eerie enough that his parents began to avoid him. 

While he went about his days, his parents stayed far off to the side out of his way. He walked into a room, they walked out with their heads down. If he approached them, they would tense up and quickly make up an excuse to leave. He was eventually just left to his own devices entirely, making his own food and caring for himself as if he lived alone. Despite this, he never complained. After all, feelings of abandonment were simply lost on him, as were most of the others.

~~

Leaving him alone came with a few side effects. He occupied himself by thinking, mostly about life. He wondered why he was alive, and how he came to be who he is. He wondered what he would become. And, as is per usual, thoughts of life were followed closely by thoughts of death. He thought death was vastly more interesting than life. Death is something you can never come back from, something that anybody can decide and inflict. While life is never guaranteed, death always is. He decided death was interesting, and devoted a lot of his time to speculation about what it's like to die.

As he sat at the couch alone, his mother wandered into the living room on her way to the kitchen. Her footsteps sped up as she walked by him, and she quickly finished her business in the kitchen and left even faster. Kuroko watched her all the while, staring at her living form. For the first time, he did not wonder what it would be like to die.

He wondered what it would be like to kill. 

In theory, it would be empowering. To take someone else's life away is to take their most precious thing from them. To take someone's life is a claim over them, for you've stolen the thing they cherish the most. He thought, certainly something as magnificent as holding complete power over someone else would bring with it feelings of valor. He wanted to test his theory.

While his father cooked for himself and his wife that night, Kuroko snuck into the kitchen, and as his father's back was turned, dropped a tiny bit of powder into their food. He crept away, and watched from the stairs as they ate their food in silence. His chest tingled as he watched them-they didn't even realize their food was tampered with. He felt his mind running at an exceptional pace as doors opened and possibilities made themselves known with this new revelation. 

He stalked back upstairs with the tiniest ghost of a grin on his face.

~~

A week later, his father fell ill with a stomach virus. He was bedridden within days, and despite his wife caring for him, he died soon after. While she cried in their shared room, Kuroko stood outside, peeking in through the cracked door. His chest clenched at the sight of her half-lying on the bed, cradling her deceased husband in her arms, and he felt a smile tugging at his lips. 

He'd poisoned his father's food with castor beans, and he'd been none the wiser.

If killing was this easy and felt this good, then why was he only just now getting into it? He put a hand to his racing heart and tiptoed away from the door.

He knew now what his purpose was.

~~

Kuroko's mother didn't emerge from the room for days after her husband was taken away. She lied there on the bed they once shared, and cradled his pillow on his side of the bed. She occasionally sought out his clothes and used them as blankets in an attempt to fool herself into thinking he was still alive. When it didn't work, Kuroko could hear her throwing furniture around in her frustration. He felt a sense of sadistic satisfaction with every thump.

She finally came out after a week. Kuroko had been in the kitchen experimenting with food when she stood before the doorway. Her eyes followed his every move, and he started to become agitated with the intensity of her gaze. When it became unbearably annoying, he turned around to face her, and asked if she needed something. She took one look at his vacant eyes, and everything became clear to her. Her face contorted with rage.

"It was _you_!"

"What was me?" Kuroko asked with an innocent head tilt. This only served to infuriate her further.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she pushed past him and retrieved a knife from its block on the counter. Unfazed, Kuroko backed against the wall as she trembled with the knife cradled tight in both hands. With her breathing labored, she let out a scream and plunged it forward. Kuroko was able to evade her, his small size enabling him to duck and dodge her messy attacks.

The knife grazed him, halting his movements just long enough for his mother to take a hold of his arm. Her grip was iron, holding him tight enough that he felt his blood grow stagnant. She stood over him, one hand in a vice on his arm, and the other holding the knife. Her eyes were wide and crazed, and Kuroko took a quiet breath. He spent years watching humans' responses to varying situations, but he'd never seen anything like this.

It was beautiful.

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught a flash of metal, and he managed to move his head to the side right at the last second. The knife buried itself in the linoleum of the floor just inches away from his left eye. His mother's grip tightened even further as she grit her teeth.

"I..." 

She struggled to pull the knife out of the floor.

"I...hate..."

The knife was freed and she reeled back a bit with the effort it took. Her whole body shook with rage.

"I _hate_..."

With her pupils narrowed to pinpoints and her body suddenly stock-still, she raised the knife in her steeled grip.

" _I hate those disgusting eyes of yours_!!"

Kuroko watched the knife come down in slow motion, headed straight for his left eye. He knew he couldn't dodge it this time, so he resorted to another way of defending himself. The knife stopped just an inch away from its target as his mother froze. Her eyes went wide and her face morphed into one of shock. Slowly, she looked down to her torso.

A piece of glass, possibly from a bottle, was embedded in her stomach. Kuroko held it there with ease, as if he'd practiced, and slowly dragged it across her abdomen. Blood seeped from the corners of his mother's mouth, and she dropped the knife in favor of holding herself up. Kuroko closed his eye and let the sharp tip of the knife just barely slice across his eyelids before turning his head to the side entirely. It fell with a clatter. 

With her distracted, Kuroko was able to free himself from her. He stood aside, and watched her curl up, clutching her midsection in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She made pathetic, pained noises, and Kuroko was reminded of a dog whose foot was stepped on. Callously, he crouched beside her, stepping on the knife. He leaned in close so he knew she could hear him.

"I'm sorry, Mother, but I can't die just yet. I have not yet fulfilled my purpose."

His mother looked up to glower at him, but all she could muster was a weak furrowing of her brows. She fell on her side, crying weakly, and looked her son in his empty, empty eyes, and whispered.

"I wish...you...had never...been born..."

Kuroko let a smile spread across his face, and his mother went limp. Her eyes did not close even as her breathing stopped, and Kuroko's smile fell instantly. He crawled over to her, and stared at her with his eyes so wide it was nearly painful. He looked into her glassy eyes and the smile found its way back onto his face.

"You're just like me now, Mother..."

~~

Kuroko called the police after that. He put on his best crying face, and tripped over his words to sound distressed. He told the cops that his mama attacked him in the kitchen and tried to take his eyes away, and he had to protect himself. He cried harder as he explained that he hadn't meant to kill her, he just meant to save himself. Between the graze over his eye and the developing bruise on his arm, the cops determined that he was likely telling the truth. They took him to the nearest hospital to be treated before his interrogation.

The knife had cut his eye more than he'd thought, and he wound up having to undergo a minor procedure to restore some of his eyesight. It didn't take very long, and by the end he had his left eye covered with gauze and tape. After he was cleared for dismissal, he was taken to the nearest police station and asked to tell the full story.

He wove a tale that his father died of a virus that got out of hand just a couple weeks prior, and his mother had taken it so hard that she started to distrust him. He told them that she'd seen him in the kitchen making himself food when she suddenly insisted he'd killed his father, and attacked him with a kitchen knife. He explained that he was so scared that he didn't know what to do, so he took a piece of glass he'd found at the park a few days before, and cut her with it. He cried as he told them he didn't mean to cut her that deep, and he apologized over and over until they insisted that he'd done nothing wrong. 

It was determined that he'd only defended his own life, and he was not punished. However, his house was closed off for investigation and cleaning, and he had nowhere to go. The cops looked through his family records, and found that his grandmother lived fairly close to their town. They gave him her contact information, and asked if he'd be willing to stay with her while they figure out whether or not to put him into foster care. He looked up at them, and gave them his best smile.

"I'd like that."

~~

So finds him sitting alone in his room at his grandmother's home, reading through the same paragraph for the fifteenth time. He closes the book when it becomes obvious he won't be able to get any reading done. Leaning his head back onto his headboard, he feels a familiar tingle in his fingers and toes.

He's itching to relive those memories of his. He needs to find a new victim. His first thought travels to his grandmother, but he quickly scratches that idea away. If he killed her, the police would grow suspicious of him. He needs to find fresh meat, someone that he's never met before with absolutely no ties to his family. The window lets in a cool breeze and he looks at the trees rustling outside. He's got a solution.

He just has to go outside and make some 'friends'.

He spots a tall pole with a basket near his house, and he gets up to look closer. It's a basketball court, and it looks like there's already someone there. He focuses in on him, and the tingling increases.

He's found his next victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gdi this is so self-indulgent
> 
> side note: i am well aware not all psychopaths are criminals. but for the sake of the story, kuroko is both.


	2. Charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Superficial Charm.
> 
> Psychopaths often know just what to say at just the right time, though their words do not always match their actions.

He watches the boy from his window whenever he can. He appears to be about the same age as Kuroko, and simple observation tells him that he loves basketball, although he isn't very good at it. He shoots and misses more often than not, and often has to run after the ball after a botched shot. Kuroko wonders why he loves the sport so much when he is clearly lacking in the ability to play well. It seems like a waste of time.

The boy often stays out late. Kuroko wonders if his parents watch after him at all, or if they just let him roam about at night on his own. He supposes he should feel bad when thinking about an abandoned child, but as per usual he doesn't have any strong opinions on the matter. It would, however, make his job easier if his parents neglected him.

The less people that care for him, the easier it will be to dispose of him when the time comes.

Court boy takes one last shot. He misses again, and the ball bounces off the rim and into the bushes nearby. He runs after it like every time before, and retrieves it from the brush. He spends a couple seconds staring at it before he steps off the court. Kuroko stares at his retreating form until it disappears into the darkness. When he's gone, he stands to shut his blinds, retrieves a book from his nightstand, and sits back down to read it.

Reading always was one of his favored pastimes. By reading about the characters and their adventures, he can often put himself in their shoes, and he can sometimes pretend that he's feeling the same emotions they are. It's about the closest he will ever get to feeling true human emotion, and he indulges himself in just about any books he can get his hands on. Aside from being an excellent time-killer, it's also a great resource to better understand the proper responses to certain social cues.

He turns the page, and briefly speculates as to what sort of feelings the court boy is experiencing, wherever he is.

~~

Kuroko's grandmother calls him to dinner an hour later. He appears at the table within minutes, having put his book right back where he had gotten it. They are both silent as she serves the both of them. She sits across from him and they eat without a word nor a glance at one another.

Fang Jing is not much different from her grandson. She is a stoic, reserved woman with an aura of confidence and authority that follows wherever she goes. Her social skills are unparalleled, and her charm often gets her whatever she may desire. Some would likely say that she is the refined version of Kuroko-a version of himself that has been polished and perfected to a tee. If he were compared to a rough draft, she would be the final product.

Kuroko had never met her before the 'incident'. She stayed to herself, and his parents never bothered to introduce them. And yet, despite only knowing her for a month and barely exchanging any words with her, Kuroko has found that he respects her much more than he ever did his parents. There's something about her that screams 'mentor', and he doubts that he will ever truly entertain the idea of killing her. 

Respect aside, somehow, he doesn't think he would be able to.

His grandmother was a small woman, certainly. She walked with small steps and her back was just slightly hunched, but underneath it, he's certain something else is lurking. He's seen her lifting things that no elderly woman should be able to, her face blank as she picks them up as if they weigh nothing at all. He notices the way she coyly manipulates cashiers and retail workers into giving her discounts they could be fired over. And, he swears that he's seen hidden pockets in her clothes, filled with something metallic that jingle when she walks. He spies on her from the corner of his eye. 

Getting into a scuffle with her would be like a lion cub taking on the alpha of the pack.

He knows his place in this house, and it's not anywhere near the top. His grandmother is in full control here, and if Kuroko were to stand in her way for any reason, he's sure he would be wiped away without a second thought.

He keeps his head bowed as he cleans up their dishes.

~~

School starts the next week. Kuroko enrolled in Teiko when he moved, for no reason other than it was the closest option he had. He idly wonders if the court boy has enrolled there, too. As he dresses himself in his uniform, he imagines what it would be like to meet him there, just the two of them in the gym. There's so many possibilities that he feels his fingers tremble with the urge to act.

He suppresses that urge, and heads out the door with a quiet 'I'm leaving' to be polite. 

Teiko is fairly normal-looking, he supposes. There's nothing that stands out about it, but there's nothing that suggests mediocrity either. There are people advertising their clubs on all sides, and Kuroko expertly weaves his way through the crowd. On the way, he scans their faces for anyone of interest. No one stands out to him in particular, so he focuses on maneuvering through the throng.

Maybe someone in his class will catch his eye.

~~

Kuroko finds someone interesting during the entrance ceremony. She is extremely animated, and her words are smooth as butter. Everyone in the audience is kept at the edge of their seats as she talks up front, and it looks like she doesn't mind being the center of attention. She's a charmer, that much is certain. Kuroko thinks she's the perfect example of proper social etiquette, and files her face away for further observation.

If he studied her, perhaps he would be able to copy her. That kind of exuberant personality could be useful to him.

~~

School proceeds just the way it always has. He pretends to pay attention the whole day, the teacher none the wiser. Nobody speaks to him, since he is all but invisible in the eyes of the general public. He uses this to his advantage to further speculate on the court boy and the stage girl, as he's labelled them. 

It seems that court boy doesn't go to this school. He doesn't feel disappointed, but he can acknowledge that this will make his target harder to get to. He likely went to another school nearby, though, and he makes a mental note to research schools in the area when he has the time.

He takes into consideration court boy's love for basketball. His dedication is obvious by the amount of time he spends shooting at the court near Kuroko's home. He is certain that he will join the basketball club of whatever school he has gone to. In which case, it would likely be in his best interest to join his own school's basketball club. Even if they are not on the same team, if they are both on one, it will make for a good 'bonding' topic, and perhaps they will have a match together in the future.

It will take time out of his schedule and Kuroko will not particularly enjoy it, but he has to plan this perfectly so as not to get caught so early in his 'career'. He has no room for restricting himself only to activities he will enjoy, just as he has no room for mistakes or poor planning.

His mind turns to the stage girl. How would he copy someone like that when he is invisible? He would have to learn how to stand out from crowds rather than blend into them. That will be the hardest part.

All his life he's been lost on strangers, and he's never had a care until now. If he wants to easily convince targets and potential witnesses that he is not a threat, he has to be well-known and well-liked, just like the stage girl. But how could he do that when nobody can see him? He thinks to himself, and suddenly an idea pops into his head.

What if he developed a sort of on-off switch? That way, when necessary, he could force his way to the center of attention, and then disappear right back into obscurity. It's a crazy idea, of course, and it will take an incredible amount of effort, but it would benefit him so greatly that he can't just consider it impossible without trying.

First, he has to work on a new persona. He will continue to observe the stage girl at every given opportunity in order to take in her characteristics and mimic them. Maybe if he is lucky, he will get the chance to interact with her face-to-face. 

Silently solidifying his plans within his mind, he looks back up to the front of the room. The teacher still hasn't noticed he isn't paying attention. 

~~

Try as he may, he just can't seem to make his eyes sparkle the way the stage girl's do.

He spent the entire day alternating between replaying her speech in his mind and observing her when he could, and he came to a somewhat troublesome conclusion; His eyes give him away. Where hers glimmer and shine with life, his are reminiscent of a dead person's. He'll never be able to charm people with a trait like that. So, immediately after returning home, he closed himself in his room and made an honest attempt to breathe some life into his eyes. 

But no matter what he tried, he couldn't force himself to look alive. He feels a muted sense of frustration as he leaves his mirror to sit at his desk. He crosses another item off the list he'd made, and taps his pen against his desk while he thinks of what else he could do to look lively.

He hears the bounce of a ball outside his window, and he looks up to see court boy throwing at the hoop again. His results are largely the same, he shoots, misses, and runs after the ball. Kuroko watches as he shoots, and once again it bounces from the rim and into the bushes. Court boy runs after it, and Kuroko is about to look away when he notices something.

The boy has stopped in his tracks, and is currently looking him straight in the eyes. 

Kuroko stops tapping his pen. He stares back, eyes wide. The court boy looks at him for a little longer before he smiles, bright and clean, and waves at him.

It's so jarring that it takes Kuroko a minute to wave back, and he does so with hesitation. Court boy looks satisfied as he turns to continue chasing after the ball. 

His mind races. How had he seen him? He'd never seen him before. He'd looked right in Kuroko's direction several times, but not once did he actually notice his presence. Had he been doing something out of the ordinary? Was there someone behind him? A quick check tells him no, he is the only person in the room. If that is the case, he has to have done something irregular. He thinks as hard as he can, and in doing so he notices that his window is ever so slightly open.

He looks at it with such intensity that he swears he sees the glass warp, and as he feels the weight of his pen in his hand, it suddenly occurs to him.

_He heard me tapping my pen against my desk._

Even just a quiet, everyday noise like that had drawn attention to him. He studies the pen, and quickly comes to a conclusion.

_Small noises are the key to being seen._

Slowly, a smile forms on his face. He looks back up at the court boy, still practicing as though it was all he knew how to do. Experimentally, he taps the pen again, and he starts slightly when the boy twitches in his direction. The possibilities are near endless, and Kuroko's inability to feel happiness is overshadowed by the sheer glee of having discovered a way to lead his prey to him.

Just as quickly as it comes, though, it's gone. He catches his reflection in the window, and sees his dull eyes staring back at him. Even if he makes noise to be noticeable, it won't do him much good when he looks the way he does. He needs to modify his appearance before he can act on his latest discovers. He hears his grandmother calling him to dinner again, and he pens down a couple of last ideas before he stands.

He pauses in his steps. His grandmother uses charm the same way as stage girl, doesn't she? Their eyes have the same lively energy, but his grandmother's are just as blank as his own when she is in private. He slowly continues forward.

Maybe he was on to something when he first felt the energy of a mentor from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise more dialogue in the next chapter. kuroko at this point doesnt talk to anyone so it wouldnt make sense for there to be dialogue in this one, but there will def be more in the next one


	3. Glamour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Parasitic Tendencies.
> 
> Psychopaths tend to make a habit of using others for their own personal gain.

Kuroko joins the basketball club the next day. He is scolded for joining late, but he isn't outright refused. It's a minor relief to him-had he been unable to join, he would have had to plan out a different scheme to get close to his target. The teacher looks over his application with scrutiny.

"We don't usually allow students to join after the first day. But, you're in luck. There was another application handed in today for the same club, so you both should be able to join no problem."

"Another one?"

"Yes. For a manager's position. She was counting on someone else wanting to join. I'll call her up so you two can head to the gym."

"I see."

The teacher calls a number from the phone on her desk and asks for someone named Satsuki. She hangs up the phone soon after, and an awkward silence hangs over them. At least, it's awkward in the teacher's eyes. Kuroko is unbothered, scanning her paperwork for anything interesting. She makes to scold him when the door slides open. Kuroko looks to the doorway, and is greeted by a familiar face.

_Stage girl._

Her pink eyes are even more sparkly and vibrant up close, and Kuroko actually feels somewhat irritated by them. She gives the teacher a charming smile as she strides up to the teacher, completely missing Kuroko's presence by her side. "Hello! You called for me?"

"Yes. It seems that fate has smiled upon you; Someone else sent in an application today." She gestures with an open palm. "Kuroko Tetsuya. Tetsuya, this is Momoi Satsuki."

Stage girl-Momoi-blinks in confusion as she turns her head in the direction of the gesture. She comes face to face with blank blue eyes and leaps a few steps back with a yelp and a hand over her chest. The teacher just looks amused.

"Whoa! Where did you come from? I didn't see you at all!"

"That happened to me, too," the teacher nods. "He's easy to miss, but he's your saving grace for the time being. You can both head to the gym. Orientation should be starting soon."

Momoi laughs and straightens out, and she bounces back with such ease that it's impossible to tell she'd been startled in the first place. Kuroko's interest grows as he watches her. 

_She's either an excellent actress, or she is very good at recovery. Either way, I should observe her closer. Both possibilities could be useful to me._

"Great, then! Come on, Kuroko! Have you been to the gym yet?"

"I have not," Kuroko shakes his head.

"Well, in that case I'll show you there. It isn't too far."

The teacher waves them off, and they exit the teachers' area. Kuroko follows behind Momoi, carefully analyzing her walking patterns and searching for possible fidgets. He notes that she walks with her shoulders low and her head high. He also observes the way her legs move with impeccable fluidity. To onlookers, it likely looks as though he's looking at her for a different purpose. 

"I'm not sure why you're staring at me so intently, but if you don't tone it down people will think you're a pervert."

Kuroko's eyes trail upwards and meet with Momoi's. She continues walking with her head turned to look at Kuroko. His eyes narrow as he takes in the glint in her eyes that wasn't present in the teachers' area. He's seen that look before.

_But where?_

It doesn't take long to reach the gym. It's a bit bigger than Kuroko had anticipated, and he quickly scans the area. He feels Momoi nudge his side. She speaks in a low voice.

"Luck really is on our side. This club's orientation starts a day later than everyone else's, mostly due to the numbers it pulls in."

Kuroko nods. He isn't sure how to respond, since it's hard to observe social cues from whispering. He doesn't have to think too hard on it, though, as an adult he presumes to be the coach starts speaking. He and Momoi part ways, and he turns off his thoughts.

It took a while to develop, but it comes in handy quite often-mostly in school settings. When he turns off his thoughts, it's kind of like working on autopilot. His body responds to instructions on its own while he retreats into his psyche. Like this, he can only hear mumbling and humming instead of normal sound; Almost like he's underwater.

He goes through the entire tryout process this way. He knows how it will turn out, so there's no reason to listen. He only barely makes the team, and is assigned to third string. He can hear the dull rumble of his fellows groaning at starting at the very bottom, and he wonders why they'd think anything different would happen.

Humans are so feeble. One thing doesn't go their way, and suddenly they've given up entirely.

Kuroko allows thoughts to flow through his mind once more when the gym starts to clear out. He's about to depart as well when he hears footsteps approaching him. Momoi gives him a small wave and a dazzling smile.

"Hello again, Kuroko. I was wondering if we could chat outside for a bit?"

~~

"So, you made it to third string? That's not bad. It'll just be all the more satisfying to get to first string."

Kuroko wordlessly stares into the distance. He's not sure what Momoi wants from him, but he won't make it easy. 

Momoi shuffles next to him. "I have something I would like to ask you."

"Then ask."

She smiles again. It's not as sparkly as the ones she's worn before. "Why do you look so bored all the time?" Kuroko stiffens. "The whole time you were playing, you had the same blank look on your face. Like an alien inhabiting a human body who isn't sure how feelings work yet."

It's a strange analogy for her to use. There are many ways she could have described his apathy, but she went with that one. He doesn't know yet if she's trying to insinuate something, or if her analogies are all strange like that. But the way she'd said it...

_How much does she know?_

"It's just the face I was born with."

"I wonder about that." Momoi leans back. "Tell me, why did you join the basketball club? You played as though you just barely have a grasp on the rules. You've never played before, have you? So what purpose do you have to join?"

_That tone..._

Kuroko has a few options. He could tell Momoi that he had an interest in sports that he was unable to cultivate, but he doubts that would work on her. She'd seen his blank face-there's no way she would ever believe he has an interest in the sport. He could also tell Momoi he just needed to do something after school, but that might not work either. There are many other things to do after school, and if he really needed something to do, he would have joined on the first day. That only leaves one option.

"There is...somebody that I want to get close to."

The truth.

"He plays basketball. I see him playing in the court by my house every day. He's very passionate about it. But I don't know how to approach him. I am...not aware of how to make friends. I thought that if we had something in common straight away, it would make the process easier."

There's a bout of quietness before Momoi scoffs. Her face loses all of its characteristic cheer, instead falling into a blank canvas not too far off from his own. Her dulled pink eyes are on him, and he's struck with the sensation of looking into a mirror. A realization comes to him.

"You are the same as me."

The corner of her mouth twitches. "Hardly." She looks away. "You're not a very good liar, Kuroko Tetsuya. The way you are now, nobody will trust you enough to be your 'friend'." The air quotes catch him somewhat off guard. "You have to look a bit more alive. Or at least less dead."

"I'm aware of my appearance, Momoi Satsuki. I was not lying when I told you that this is the face I was born with. I can not change it so easily."

She huffs. "Didn't think so. Here, tell you what. I'll help you fix your face if you meet me here tomorrow."

"Why? There's nothing in it for you."

"Oh, trust me." She grins, so unlike her stage persona. "There's something in it for me. I'm just not going to tell you what it is."

"..."

Kuroko is once again unsure of what to do in this girl's presence. He feels that she is not dangerous on her own, but with that charm and wit she so flawlessly utilizes, there's no doubt that she has the potential to be. Trusting her could be a very bad choice, but so could not trusting her. But if she's willing to help him, he supposes he can't turn down the offer.

If she ends up turning on him, he will simply eliminate her.

"Fine. I will be here tomorrow."

"Good." She stands and stretches out. The light slowly returns to her eyes, and Kuroko curses his own inability to do such a thing. "See you then, Tetsu-kun. Don't disappoint me." She turns to leave, but pauses midway. "Oh, and by the way. If you're going to people watch to mimic their behavior, try and make it less obvious. People can feel when they're being stared at." 

With that, she leaves Kuroko by himself on the steps outside the gym. He watches her leave with the strangest sensation of having lost a battle.

_She's crafty._

~~

As it turns out, temporarily solving the problem of his unfriendly features is quite easy. Momoi brings with her a bag full of supplies, one of which being concealer. Kuroko doesn't recognize it when she procures it, and glances at her. She rolls her eyes. 

"It'll hide those disgraceful dark circles. Honestly, do you ever sleep, or are you too plagued by thoughts of mass homicide?"

Kuroko, impervious to sarcasm, is about to explain himself, but Momoi shushes him with a 'shut up and let me work'. He shuts his mouth, and Momoi rubs the concealer into his skin. Despite her not being the least bit gentle, he doesn't even flinch. She finishes her work, and looks down at him with a click of her teeth.

"You really are a monster, aren't you."

Her remark is met with a blank stare, and she exhales through her nose. No matter what she may do to alter his physical form, what lurks beneath it all will never change. She's just giving him a pretty mask. Those soulless, icy eyes will always look for prey, and there's nothing she can do to change that. 

Not that she wants to.

She picks out a small container from her bag. It's small and square, and the inside is pink in color. She puts some onto her finger and rubs it gently onto Kuroko's cheeks. She leans back to check her symmetry and gives herself a nod. 

"Blush. Gives your skin some color."

She retrieves another item from her bag, and Kuroko looks at them in mild curiosity. It's pair of glasses, pale pink and gold in color. She cleans off the lenses before brushing Kuroko's hair back and setting them on his face. She adjusts them accordingly, and gives him a scrutinizing look-over. Her lips quirk in amusement.

"You know, like this, you almost look like a person."

Kuroko gently runs a finger along the frames. "What will these do? My vision is fine on its own."

"They're not prescription." Momoi straightens herself. "They're there to reflect light. That way it looks like your eyes have a little bit of shine. It's not much, but you don't look like a reanimated corpse with them on."

"I see."

"I even took the liberty of making them a pretty color so you look more approachable."

"Thank you."

"Spare me your fake niceties."

Momoi picks up the concealer and the blush from their place on the ground and tosses them both in Kuroko's direction. He catches the concealer, but just misses the blush. She shrugs and wipes her hands together to rub off the excess. 

"I'm sure you can figure out how to use those on your own."

She gathers up the rest of her supplies and resettles them into the bag, which she then ties off and stuffs into her bookbag. She rises, slipping the strap onto her shoulder. Kuroko soon follows.

"That's what I can do for now. It isn't a permanent fix, but..." she gives him a look. "There's only one permanent fix for what you have, and I left my knife at home."

"Would you kill me if given the chance?"

Momoi taps her chin. "If you were to become boring, I might."

"It's the same for me."

"I know it is." She huffs a sigh. "My work here is done for now. As you are now, you should be able to talk to that 'friend' of yours without a problem. Speaking of, I have a request regarding him. Something like payment for my services."

"And that would be?"

"Keep me posted on developments regarding him. Any new progress, any plans. Especially make sure to show me what you do to him." She gives him a crooked smile. "I would love to see a fresh kill up close. This is my one opportunity to get a good look."

Kuroko nods. "Okay. Does that only apply to him, or to others as well?"

Momoi hums to herself. "Others, too. It's too interesting for me to pass up."

"Very well."

"Good boy. Now run along to class, the bell's about to ring."

Momoi turns her back on him, and Kuroko briefly entertains the thought of strangling her on these steps here and now. But, he restrains himself. Killing her would do him more harm than good. That, and she's too smart to let her guard down around someone she knows to be dangerous. Instead, he watches her depart, heading into the main school building and shutting the door behind her. Kuroko takes his own leave moments later, in the opposite direction.

He catches his reflection in a blackened window along the way, and he can hardly even recognize himself. He looks just like any other middle school student thanks to Momoi's handiwork. The image is shattered as a crazed grin finds its way onto his face, giving him an appearance befitting a murderer. 

_With this, he won't even realize..._

Kuroko allows himself a short burst of laughter before he schools his expression into one of cool indifference and continues along his path to class.

_Just a little longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case its not obvious, momoi is a sociopath, not a psychopath


	4. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Need for Stimulation
> 
> Psychopaths often need to be occupied to make it through the day. They often have a wide variety of hobbies as a result.

Kuroko checks his bedroom window religiously that night. He finds himself unable to concentrate on his book as he looks up every other minute in case court boy makes a quiet entrance. He begins to grow restless. His foot shakes involuntarily, and he finds himself idly chewing his cheek. It feels like he's about to go insane by the time he hears footsteps outside. He bolts upright, all unrest forgotten, and stares out the window. 

His prey quietly dribbles a ball outside, looking strangely downtrodden. Kuroko takes it as a good sign-if his prey is sad, perhaps he would like someone to vent to. Most people seem to enjoy dumping their feelings onto other people, so certainly this one wouldn't be any different. He checks the mirror, straightening the glasses Momoi gifted him and making sure he looks presentable. When he's deemed his appearance satisfactory, he leaves his room, sneaking out the front door and walking in the direction of the court.

He's so close. He's so incredibly close, and it's driving him crazy. His shoulders tremble as he approaches the court, and he squeezes his arms in an attempt to calm down. Court boy isn't far now. He can see him under the dim street lighting, surrounded by the darkness of the night. It's very nearly symbolic, and Kuroko feels a certain lust pricking at his skin. He feels like a dehydrated man on the brink of death in a vast, never-ending desert upon discovering a rich and bountiful oasis. His jaw twitches as he stops just feet from his target.

He can practically feel the court boy's body heat from this distance. He bites his lip and watches him shoot. It's so different seeing it from here. Putting a scent, a feeling, and a temperature to his future victim is so surreal he's practically salivating. He takes a deep breath, puts on his improved mask, and taps his foot gently on the concrete to get his attention.

His target all but flings the ball in his direction in his fright, and Kuroko quickly deflects it. Court boy looks at him with wide eyes, stumbling back a few steps.

"Wh-whoa! Where'd you come from?"

Kuroko gives him what he hopes is a patient smile. "I apologize for sneaking up on you. I've been told I'm hard to notice."

Court boy seems to catch his breath. He recovers from his almost-fall, standing up straight again. He reaches down and picks up the ball at his feet. "Man, you really scared me there. I thought you were some kinda murderer!" He laughs nervously. Kuroko wonders if he has a sense of humor after all, given his own laugh that he has to choke down.

Oh, the sheer irony.

After some mindless chit-chat, his future victim identifies himself as Ogiwara Shigehiro. He turns out to be the interrogative type, asking Kuroko all manner of questions about himself and where he came from. Kuroko, for the most part, tells almost-truths. He explains that he lived in the town next to this one before, but unforeseen circumstances led him to move into his grandmother's house. Ogiwara gives him a look screaming of sympathy, and Kuroko wonders how he would react if he told him he'd killed both of his parents without a drop of remorse. He's left to speculate on his own, though, as he doesn't think he's developed his mask's sense of humor enough to pass it off as a joke. In return for Kuroko's answers, Ogiwara offers up some of his own.

"I've lived here all my life. My parents lived here even years before I came around. I used to think it would be boring to live in one place for so long, but I guess I can see the appeal now. It's quite a nice town, right? Lots of courts to play on!" He seems to think for a moment. "Do you happen to play, too? I've never seen you out here but maybe I just missed you."

Kuroko nods. "I joined a team recently. I'm not very good, but I'm working on it."

"Oh, cool! I heard Teiko's pretty good. I'd like to play them someday. But, well," he looks at Kuroko with a shy grin. "I'm not too good, myself." He starts shooting again. "Truth be told, I only barely made the team at Meiko. Ended up on third string. It's better than not making it at all, but third string never gets to play. It stings, but I just have to get better."

"That's a good way of thinking."

"Thanks!" Ogiwara looks at him with curiosity. "By the way, how'd you do that earlier?"

"Do what?"

"That thing. Where you swiped the ball I chucked at you away."

Kuroko shrugs. "I just saw something coming towards my face, and pushed it away."

"Wow, really? Those are some crazy reflexes you've got there, then!" Ogiwara dribbles idly. "I bet you could do something real cool with that. Y'know, turn it into some kind of specialty? I bet you'd climb all the way up to first string in no time!"

"I doubt it'd be that easy, but maybe there's something that can be done. I'll look into it." Kuroko gives him a smile. "In the meantime, could you help me out? I'm still not sure how basketball really works, and I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone in the club. They all seem to know what they're doing and it makes me nervous."

Ogiwara practically sparkles, and Kuroko is reminded of Momoi's stage persona. "Alright! I'll do my best!"

The two spend a good hour going through the basic game principles. Ogiwara is all too enthusiastic to explain everything down to the finest details, and Kuroko nods along. This time, he doesn't retreat into the back of his mind. Instead, he listens for real, taking in every word he says and scanning it for usable information. He files everything else away in case it becomes useful someday. By the time the street light begins to flicker, they've covered most everything Kuroko will need in order to pretend to know what he's doing. The light turns off, and they're left in total darkness. Ogiwara yelps, and frantically digs around his pockets for his phone to find a light. Kuroko watches his silhouette move.

He could kill him here and now. He could just reach out, wrap his hands around his neck, and squeeze until the squirming stops. He could watch his skin turn purple and blue under his grasp, and he could watch the life leave his eyes moments later. He could even choose the more colorful route, and paint the court with his blood. His dark, carnal desires scream at him to act, and he has to force his hands down when they lift on their own. Ogiwara is successful in turning his phone's light on, and Kuroko only barely manages to look sane before his face is made visible. 

Ogiwara lets out a relieved snicker. "Dude, that was so scary. I'm not a fan of the dark, so that was like my worst nightmare come to life! Luckily I have a flashlight on my phone, yeah?" He huffs. "But if the lights went out, it means I'm out way too late. My parents are gonna get mad if I don't go home like, right now. Sorry!"

Kuroko shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I understand. I should go home, too." He bows. "Thank you for helping me."

"Ah! What's with that formal way of thanking me? No biggie! You should come and hang out here more often, you're pretty fun to talk to. See you tomorrow, maybe?"

"I will do my best."

"Great! See ya!"

Ogiwara waves goodbye, and Kuroko waves back. His back turns to him, and he fades into the darkness. Kuroko stands alone, surrounded by the shadows, and grits his teeth.

The urge to act is becoming unbearable.

If he hadn't already made plans for him, Kuroko would have killed him on the court as soon as he came up. He'd have snuck up behind him, cut his throat and watched him bleed out on the concrete. But, he needs to know if he can kill someone with trust. He wants Ogiwara to think of him as a friend, as a shoulder to cry on. Then, when he's least expecting it, he'll reveal his true nature, and his life will be ripe for the taking. 

But being around him has proven extremely trying. Being face-to-face with his prey sends him into a spiral of feverish fantasies the likes of which he's never had before, and it's a chore just to keep his hands to himself. It will likely only get harder with each passing day until his plan is finally carried out in full. 

Kuroko, for the first time in his life, is actually looking forward to something.

And it's overwhelming to the core.

~~

Fang Jing is nothing if not observant. In her younger years, she was often hailed as an all-seeing ruler, knowing things about people they hadn't even known themselves. Without a shred of effort, she could deduce a person's entire personality after hearing only a few words from them. She knew whenever someone was lying, and her lack of tolerance for disobedience earned her a strong name in her native Shanghai. Often called Three-Eyed Queen, she ruled over her subjects with an iron fist, and her reputation was constantly on the rise.

All of that changed after a single misstep. With that one mistake came the fall of the empire she'd built, and suddenly, the Three-Eyed Queen was no more. Disgraced and hunted, she fled China and sought refuge within Japan. 

She's had plenty of time to lament her mistake in her old age, so when her grandson walks in the front door covered in blood, she knows what she has to do. She grabs him by the arm and tugs him into the house, making absolutely certain the door locks behind them. She turns to him.

"Kids these days have no sense of subtlety. How you all collectively managed to become reckless escapes me."

Tetsuya looks at her in confusion, and she crosses her arms.

"One single slip-up could destroy all of your plans in an instant. I know it very well. Tell me what you did."

She waits patiently for Tetsuya to come up with the right words. In the time she's spent with him, it's become obvious that his Chinese is less than stellar despite having spoken it regularly with his parents as a child. Naturally, she's only used Chinese the whole time he's been with her. He will see the value in learning in due time. But for now, she listens to his imperfect tone and poor word choice and allows a frown to cross her face.

"Reckless. Very reckless. Don't you know how dangerous it is to kill without a plan? I thought you would know better."

Tetsuya is giving her a very strange look, and she's not entirely sure if it's because he doesn't understand her, or if it's because he hadn't expected this response from her. Either way, she leads him to the kitchen and opens the drawer beneath the sink. She pulls out a box of latex gloves, and puts some on. She sighs heavily.

"Come, Tetsuya. Let's clean up your mess."


	5. Gatherer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Early behavioral issues.
> 
> Psychopaths tend to act out in early life, though how they go about it differs from person to person. Sometimes they will throw fits, other times they will simply use others to hide their lies.

Kuroko's grandmother made body cleanup look almost too easy. It had only taken a little while after locating the mangled, torn body to completely erase any trace of its existence. She poured a strange, sour-smelling mixture onto the blood, and almost like magic it disappeared from sight. She'd shaken the bottle after its usage, and explained it was a super-potent, enhanced version of simple hydrogen peroxide. She told Kuroko to take it back to the house and change out of his stained clothing while she disposed of the remains, and he did so without question.

He never did see what she'd done with it. She returned to the house about an hour later, and didn't offer any explanation. Kuroko didn't ask.

She retrieved the clothes he'd set aside and studied them closely. Apparently having deemed them a lost cause, she led him to the basement and started a fire in their mostly-unused furnace, tossing in the last bits of evidence that may point to her grandson as the killer. Finally, she inquired about how he had gone about his task.

"I don't remember entirely," he responded in Japanese. "But I don't think there was a weapon involved."

Interesting. If there was no weapon, then he'd simply torn his victim apart using only his own body. Idly, Jing wondered if the rumors of emotionless people always having monstrous strength were true, after all. Maybe he lacked the inhibitors that keep strength on the down-low, or maybe he was just that blinded by rage. Either way, he needed to learn discipline. 

And who better to teach him than the woman who single-handedly brought Shanghai to its knees before her?

~~

They spend the entire night honing Kuroko's abilities. He learns the easiest ways to dispose of bodies, the most efficient way to clean up bloodstains, and the steps to take to avoid leaving shoe or fingerprints. Jing explains to her grandson that every killer has their own flourish, their own unique process that they go through every time they take a victim. She tells him that they'll work on how to suppress such a signature so he will be harder to track.

All in all, it was a productive night and despite not getting any sleep whatsoever, Kuroko gains confidence. He applies more concealer in the morning than had been used the day before and sets his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He looks himself over in the mirror before heading out the door. Jing doesn't speak to him, and he doesn't speak to her.

There's nothing to be said until nighttime. 

~~

School progresses without a hitch. Nothing of interest happens, and Kuroko is more than okay with that. For the most part he sits in his seat and reads, not even bothering to listen to the lecture. He briefly considers homeschooling before discarding the thought-school is an important asset he will hold onto as long as he can.

The end of the school day sees him approaching the gym. Practice isn't in full official swing yet, so he has the opportunity to observe some of the more dedicated club members while they do their own thing.

He spots a group of four near the west end. They seem to be bickering amongst each other-common for the club, unfortunately. They're at least playing as they fight, seeming to channel some aggressive energy from their petty insults and vulgar comments. Vaguely, he recognizes one of them as someone he's seen with Momoi in the hallways. He's pretty tall for their grade, and he has a competitive, fiery aura about him. Kuroko is reminded of a panther.

Another one looks to be just slightly taller than Momoi's companion. He appears to be the straight-laced type, adjusting his glasses as he watches the ordeal. He's carrying a strange teddy bear, and Kuroko makes a mental note that he may be more childish than he seems at a glance.

The third in their group towers over them. Kuroko is almost certain he may be the tallest in the school, including the teachers. However, despite his massive size, he's easily riled up, as shown by his interactions with Momoi's hot-blooded friend. Kuroko decides that there's likely more to his personality than what he sees.

The fourth has his back turned to him. He can't discern a proper aura as a result, but he feels...strange. Just looking at his back sends a strange tingle throughout his ribcage. It's hard for him to explain, but somehow he carries himself with all the regality of a king in his court despite only standing in one place. He commands respect.

Respect that Kuroko isn't willing to give.

It's just not in his nature. He quickly assumes they will not get along if the smallest club member next to him is anywhere near as haughty as he looks from afar. 

Momoi enters the gym just as that thought crosses his mind. She raises a delicate eyebrow at the sight of him. He meets her gaze and quietly strides over to where she is now crouched down unpacking her bag.

"Momoi-san. Who are they?"

"They are a promising group of first stringers. They're pretty talented from what I've seen of them." She stands. "Why? Interested?"

Kuroko's eyes darken considerably as he stares at the smallest one's back. Momoi looks taken aback.

"...something like that."

She gives him a considering look. "If you want, I can bring you some information about them. There won't be much in the way of the club, though."

"Anything will do."

She nods, her peppy and sparkling mask falling into place with ease as she leaves his company. This time, he doesn't even watch her go. His eyes are all but glued on the four first stringers practicing in the corner.

~~

He doesn't talk to Momoi for the rest of practice. He goes home seemingly empty handed, until he opens his bag and finds a thin, pink notebook inside. He frowns and pulls it out. It stands out among his mostly colorless belongings. Just by the cover alone, he's sure that the notebook belongs-or rather, belonged-to Momoi. He studies it for a minute before setting it aside on his desk.

Gingerly, he sits and opens it up. He's met with Momoi's cutesy, colorful handwriting. A little drawing in the corner seems familiar, and he easily places it as the face of a first stringer from earlier. Interested, he starts to read through Momoi's notes.

_Aomine Daiki. First year, birth date August 31._

_\- A childhood friend of mine._  
\- _Lazy when unmotivated_  
\- _Eats too much_  
\- _Arrogant at times_  
\- _Low intelligence_

A childhood friend, then. Kuroko files that bit of information into the back of his mind in case it's usable in the future. He reads over the paper once before turning the page and moving on to the second set.

_Murasakibara Atsushi. First year, birth date October 9._

\- _High physical strength_  
\- _Childlike petulance_  
\- _Loves sweets and food in general_  
\- _Somewhat lazy_

Not very much usable information, it seems. No matter. He seemed to be the least bothersome out of the four. He flips the page.

_Midorima Shintaro. First year, birth date July 7_

\- _Exceptional intelligence_  
\- _Plays by the rules_  
\- _Obsessed with horoscopes_  
\- _Superstitious_

He never would've expected someone with such a high-strung aura to be one for horoscopes and superstition, but he supposes it's not entirely unfounded. Humans always have a way of defying expectations.

_Haizaki Shogo. First year, birth date November 2._

Kuroko looks at the drawing next to his name and frowns. He doesn't recall seeing a silver-haired player anywhere on the court the day he took notice of the group. Perhaps he was sick at the time?

\- _Rebellious to an excessive degree_  
\- _Self-centered_  
\- _Doesn't crack under pressure_  
\- _Occasionally violent_  
\- _Often alone_

So he's one of those types. In that case, it's much more likely he was simply skipping practice. His supposedly rebellious nature is likely to be troublesome in the future, but there's nothing a knife to the throat won't fix. Out of all the others, he'd probably be the easiest to dispose of.

No one would miss him, after all.

Kuroko flips the page, coming to the last set of notes. It's the redhead whose back had been turned to him. He quickly moves to read his notes.

_Akashi Seijuro. First year, birth date December 20._

\- _Genius-level intelligence_  
\- _Exceeds in all areas_  
\- _Adept at shogi and other puzzle games_  
\- _Charismatic_  
\- _Possibly wealthy_

Kuroko scoffs. A spoiled rich kid, then. His kind are certainly among the most annoying type of person, but if he's kidnapped then it's possible to claim a huge ransom for himself. Though, if he doesn't have a good home life, his efforts would be in vain. Best to eliminate him the same way as everyone else, if need be.

He shuts the notebook and tucks it away into his bookshelf. Momoi is proving to be a very valuable asset, though something is bothering him.

How could she possibly know all this so early on in the year? She must either have exceptional observation skills or inside sources. Either way poses a risk to him that is doubled if both turn out to be true. Momoi Satsuki is indeed dangerous, but she's simply too big an asset to discard. He needs to milk her for all she's worth before he can even entertain the thought of tossing her out.

It's a risky game to play, but so long as he's pulling the strings, his pink-haired marionette will be following his every command. If she lunges, he'll simply cut the strings, and she will crumble.

Yes, this game is dangerous. But it's a game he's been playing his whole life.

He looks out the window upon hearing the bounce of a ball against concrete. He meets the gaze of Ogiwara, and returns his wave with a smile. He stands from his desk chair and grabs a coat from the end of his bed, walking out the front door unhindered.


	6. Angel

Ogiwara's company is nothing if not exhausting. 

He's excessively excitable, and has a penchant for screaming at every given opportunity. He rambles on and on about pointless things, and feels the incessant need to talk about anything and everything that he is interested in.

Such an unabashedly exuberant personality would grate on anyone's nerves after a while, but Kuroko is exceptionally intolerant to all things bright and beautiful. Every night that he visits him for information gathering, he returns home far more fatigued than he otherwise would have been. He finds himself becoming more and more irritated as the days pass, similarly to a wild dog being teased with a ripe and bloody slab of meat hanging just out of range of its jaws.

He looks more forward to his inevitable demise than ever before, but the timing is not yet right. He has not fully gained Ogiwara's trust, and he needs to continue these nightly visits for quite some time to attain it. It will be tiring, mentally and physically, but the payoff will be an new and extremely valuable skill that will come in handy later on.

Until the day comes that he has won at his game, he has to find a way to keep his urges down.

The library proves very useful in this endeavor. The stories kept within the pages of every book don't interest him they way they would a normal person, but they do serve a certain purpose. The dialogue helps him get a feel for how humans are expected to communicate with one another, and once in a while he will stumble across something useful such as a common quote or a cleanup method. More often than not he reads mystery and horror novels, since they tend to be of the most use to him.

As he sits alone in the far corner of the library, he finally comes to the closing paragraph of his current book, The Crimson Labyrinth by Kishi Yusuke. He closes it and allows himself some time to reflect on the words within before standing to return it to its shelf.

It's an interesting premise, he will admit. He wonders what it would be like to manipulate such a large group of people, and how it would feel to watch them all slowly tear each other apart under the guise of potential freedom. He nods to himself and thinks that he, too, like the antagonist would film such an event if it ever came to pass.

For some reason it's very amusing that he would be considered an antagonist in someone else's novel.

He has just returned the book to its original place and is in the midst of reaching for another when he feels a hand brush against his. 

Normally, he would recoil and fake a sincere smile and sheepish apology, but something feels...strange.

Where the other hand touches his he feels jolts of electricity running down his arm straight into his chest and all throughout his body. The shocks grow more intense with each passing second, and for a second he's not sure if the hand belongs to a human, or to something else.

"Pardon me."

The voice's tone turns his heart in his chest. It's soft and easy-going, but commanding and authoritative at the same time. He's compelled to look to his side and examine the owner of the hand, and when he does all the air in his lungs suddenly runs stagnant, and all of his surroundings blend together into murky black.

Kuroko has no concept of beauty. The perception of beauty is dependent on personal feelings, of which he has none. But the only words he could possibly use to describe the being before him is simply...

_Beautiful._

Red hair, red eyes. A bright light burns and hums around him. Kuroko wonders if he's looking at an angel, because every single feature he carries is perfect in every plausible way to the point that he's not sure he should even be looking at him. As the darkness swallows the world around them, he realizes that everything makes sense now-as if his life had been a massive puzzle he hadn't known had an extra piece, and now that he's found said piece he can finally see the entire picture. He swallows hard.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't see you...there," he manages through a tight throat.

The red angel smiles, and Kuroko's already constricted throat closes all the way, and his heart thrums ominously in his chest. 

"That's alright. I hadn't seen you, either. But it seems we have similar taste in entertainment."

Kuroko reluctantly withdraws his hand, and holds it tight against his body to savor the small amount of heat the angel's hand had left on his own. "Ah...yes, it would seem so..."

He watches the angel pick up the book he'd been reaching for, and examine the cover. "I'm quite surprised, though. You don't look like the type who would reach such macabre literature."

"...you don't really look the type, either..." he nearly whispers.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." The angel's smile widens. "My name is Akashi Seijuro. I haven't seen you around before, are you new here?"

Akashi. The beautiful red angel's name is Akashi. 

Now that he's put a name to that ethereal face, everything feels so much more real. His chest hurts, and his limbs threaten to give out all at once, but he somehow maintains his posture without tipping himself off and ruining everything before it has a chance to happen.

"I'm Kuroko...Tetsuya. And n-no, I've...I've been here the whole time."

Akashi's eyebrows raise. "Really? Fascinating." He squeezes the book in his hands before holding it out to Kuroko. "Here, you can take this. Your hand touched it first, after all."

Almost eagerly, Kuroko takes it and tucks it under both of his arms in a hug. "I...thank you, Akashi-kun, I...appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." The bell sounds, and Akashi looks up in mild distaste. "It would seem that I must return to class now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Kuroko-kun."

Akashi bows to him and takes his leave, Kuroko staring down his back as he retreats. He watches his form become smaller and smaller until it's no longer visible, and only then does he allow his knees to give out beneath him. His breathing rapid, he stares at the floor with wide, blown-out eyes.

_What...is this...?_

The events that took place in the library send him into a dazed state for the rest of the day. He had never experienced emotion before, let alone such an incredibly powerful one, so it's really no wonder he reacted so intensely. No matter how many times he reads the words on the pages of his book, he just can't seem to register them in his mind. He's too focused on the fact that Akashi had touched said book as well. 

Multiple times he found himself cradling the book like a newborn, gazing down at it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. At one point he even nuzzled his cheek against the cover, inhaling its scent hoping to catch a bit of Akashi as well.

If he had been in his right mind, perhaps he would have taken notice of the odd stares he had gotten.

But, he did not, and he spent the rest of the day pondering the feelings he was experiencing. It's impossible to put a name to it, as he has no frame of reference to go off of. Never before had he felt joy, or sadness, or compassion. All he had ever felt is frustration, and the satisfying release of watching the life leave someone's eyes. 

Certainly, the feeling didn't have a name. It did, however, have an impact. He now felt the insurmountable desire to protect Akashi, to be there with him and to learn more about him. He wanted to always watch him, and know where he is and what he is doing. He wants Akashi to be interested in him.

He wants...Akashi.

He wants to feel that feeling again. That incredible warmth that spread all throughout his body at just a simple touch. He wants to know what this feeling is, and he knows that the only one who could possibly bring out that feeling is Akashi. 

In a way, it feels as if Akashi is the key to the locked door that is Kuroko's humanity.

The door has been locked for so long that he's not even sure there's anything behind it.

But, Akashi is the only way he could possibly know for sure.

He's suddenly very glad he didn't kill Momoi when he had the chance.

.  
.  
.

During practice, Kuroko attracts Momoi's attention. She looks very slightly irritated, but follows him outside the gym nonetheless. She taps her foot impatiently.

"What is it? I'm busy."

"I need you to dig up more information on Akashi Seijuro."

Momoi blinks. Her face scrunches in scrutiny, and he watches her eyes scan his face as if unsure of his sincerity. "Didn't I already give you some basic knowledge on him? I included all of the first string members."

"You did. But I need more."

He must have been wearing a strange expression, because suddenly Momoi takes a step back from him with a defensive look on her face. He watches her body go rigid, and he can only guess why she would become so tense out of nowhere. He watches her throat constrict as she swallows. "...okay. Fine. Whatever, I'll write some more on Akashi. Just...stop making that terrible face."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Momoi huffs and spins on her heel, quickly returning to her place in the gym. Kuroko stays behind, once again lost in thought. Slowly, he reaches up and touches his face.

He's smiling.

That would explain the strange pain in his cheeks. But why is he smiling? Smiling is something humans do when they're happy, or excited, or generally having a good time. Kuroko can't feel any of these things, so why would he be mimicking this expression?

Whatever the cause for it may be, it had scared even someone like Momoi.

If he's going to continue fake-smiling, he's going to have to work on this.

 _People like smiles. They feel more secure around people who smile._ He swallows. _Maybe if I make a nice-looking smile...Akashi will..._

It's then that it occurs to him that Momoi had implied he was a member of Teiko's first string. He fumbles with his bag and brings out Momoi's notebook, and sure enough, a page of notes labeled Akashi Seijuro sits comfortably on the left side. 

_If Akashi-kun is on the basketball team, then..._

He looks up at the gym.

_He's here._

Kuroko's mouth goes dry as he closes the notebook. Transfixed by the idea of Akashi being in the same general vicinity as himself, he clumsily replaces the notebook and lets his mind get to work on a plan.

This opportunity is once in a lifetime, and all the odds are in his favor. The pieces are all aligned and ready.

He just needs to figure out which of them to move first.


	7. Perfect

It's...difficult, executing the first step of his plan. Kuroko has never been somebody who is particularly talented in any legal areas, so it took quite a bit of thought and effort to finally figure out what exactly he was going to do.

The first step entails catching Akashi's attention. According to Momoi's notes, Akashi is someone who is not easily impressed and tends to only associate himself with those he sees as interesting. Kuroko doesn't fit the mold just yet, but he thought that with some adjustments to his character and further observation of those Akashi surrounds himself with he might just make himself fit.

Of course, it isn't that easy. Nothing ever is.

As he sits at his desk he taps his pencil against the blank paper in moderate frustration. It has been far too long without any good results, and he finds himself becoming somewhat antsy. It's never been this hard to come to a conclusion before. 

He can hear the distant sounds of Ogiwara shooting outside, but he doesn't pay it any attention.

Groaning, Kuroko lets his head fall onto the desk in defeat. 

_It's no use. I'm far too average. Someone as amazing as him would never be interested in someone so bland as I am. This is impossible._

He envisions Akashi before him, staring at him in silent contempt. He turns up his beautiful features at the sight of him and scoffs, turning on his heel and stalking away. The vision sends a sharp pang through his chest, and suddenly all the air in the room has vanished. He clutches at his heart and attempts to breathe to no avail.

Stumbling onto the floor, he buries his face in the carpet. A strange sound forces its way through his throat and his body freezes. Something feels wrong with his face. Scrambling to his feet he runs toward the mirror in the corner and stares at himself in wonder.

He reaches up and touches the wet spot on his cheek, completely dumbfounded by its appearance. 

_Is this...sadness?_

Kuroko has never experienced this emotion before. It doesn't feel good. It's tight...cold. It feels like someone has mixed up his insides and they're struggling to reposition themselves within his body. His constricted throat causes his breathing to come out raspy, and he quickly wipes away the wetness on his face.

_I can not give up now. I couldn't bear to have him look at me that way._

Determined, he returns to his seat and picks up his pencil once more.

.  
.  
.

"What's your issue? You look even more dead than you usually do." 

Momoi's monotonous tone is grating to Kuroko's ears, and he passes her a glare. She noticeably straightens herself, but she keeps her expression stern.

"I want to become a member of the first string."

She obviously was not expecting that to be the source of Kuroko's sour face. Her eyebrows raise and she gives him a look of incredulity. 

"What, seriously? I thought you didn't care about the team."

"I have changed my mind. I think it would benefit me to become notable in some area such as this. It would help me seem less intimidating to those around me."

"...I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here and say I believe you." She crosses her arms. "Even so, what do you expect me to do about that? _No offense_ to you, but you're probably the most talentless person I've ever come across. You joining the first string would be like that idiot Aomine suddenly deciding to become a tap dancer. It just doesn't happen."

"Therein lies my problem. I do not know how to better myself to the point I qualify for the first string."

Momoi stares at him in consideration for a moment. She frowns in thought and taps her foot against the shiny wood of the court. "I will give it some thought. It will have to be something regarding talent you already have, because frankly I don't think it's possible for you to excel in anything you aren't already good at."

She waves her clipboard at him and resets her public mask. Kuroko recoils in distaste and returns to practice. The ball feels heavy and unnatural in his hands, but when he realizes that perhaps Akashi has touched it as well, his grip tightens and he holds it close to himself.

He receives more odd looks.

He ignores them.

.  
.  
.

The library is open late again that day, so Kuroko makes use of the late hours to stake out in the corner again, on the lookout for a certain someone. People pass by him without catching notice of his presence, allowing him to properly scan the faces of every person who enters without being seen as creepy.

It's just past three when he finally spots him.

Ever-reserved, Akashi Seijuro strides into the library with all the grace in the world, gliding along as though he were a powerful monarch in a marble-floored ballroom. Kuroko watches him, rapt, as he approaches the front desk to return whatever book he had checked out and since finished. 

A little on the small side. A bit worn. Bound in red. A yellowish cover. 

He commits every last detail of the scene before him to his long term memory, determined to etch the scene into his very eyelids so it would never leave him. 

As soon as he had appeared, the perfect and beautiful Akashi had disappeared. Kuroko feels a foreign tugging in his chest, and swallows hard in an attempt to remove the lump from his throat. 

_He's not gone...I will see him again...he's not gone...he's not..._

Taking in a deep breath, he waits with growing impatience for the librarian to return the book to the shelves. She seems to be taking her sweet time, browsing her computer and cleaning her glasses and doing everything in her power to prevent Kuroko from becoming closer to his perfect Akashi. He glares at her from across the library, pure burning rage emanating from him like a furnace. A couple of students scurry away from him, their fight or flight instincts having suddenly activated in his presence. 

Finally, _finally_ , the librarian stands and pushes her cart full of returned books from behind the desk and toward the shelves. Kuroko's eyes are wide like saucers as she puts them all back, glossed irises tracing the movements of her hands and every finger as she wedges the books back into their proper places. He bites the insides of his cheeks so hard he can taste iron in the back of his throat.

The very second she puts the yellow-covered, red-bound book on the shelf, he springs up from his seat, causing a nearby student to jolt. He walks with conviction towards her, his eyes still glued to his desired prize on the shelf. 

As he stands before the librarian, she herself in somewhat of a disturbed and frightened state, he stares into the book that perfect Akashi had held in his hands only minutes ago. Slowly, methodically, he reaches a trembling hand out and gently removes it as though he were digging a live landmine from the dirt. It shakes in his unsteady grip, and he tightens his fingers around it.

He's almost salivating as he quietly, monotonously informs the librarian that he will be checking the book out.

She wastes no time in scurrying back to her desk much like a scared mouse.

Once the book was truly in his possession, he quickly packed up all of his things and all but ran out the school doors. His blood was hot in his veins as his heart raced and thumped, threatening to burst through his chest. He forced the front door of his grandmother's house open and didn't close it behind him as he ran up the stairs and into his room, locking it behind him.

He was finally alone.

Retrieving his bag, he procures his book from its confines and opens it.

The words dance and distort before his eyes, and he couldn't say what the book was about if his own life depended on it, but once he had finished it, he felt an overwhelming warmth sweep his entire body.

He and his perfect Akashi had held the same book. They had read the same words, touched the same pages. The very thought of his fingerprints merging with Akashi's own filled him with a kind of excitement, and he made sure to touch every last surface to be assured he had made contact with all of his residual prints.

He hugs the book to his chest as tight as he can and curls in on himself. His eyes prickle and his face flushes warm.

_My perfect, beautiful Akashi-kun...I may not have caught your attention yet....but you have completely and utterly enraptured me._

.  
.  
.

Momoi visits him the next day. In his pack he carries the book with him, gently wrapped in a cloth so nothing else could touch it. She doesn't comment when she sees him gently running his fingertips along the cover.

"I had an idea last night."

"..."

"You're boring. Incredibly and unbelievably boring. This is a simple fact, and nothing will ever change it."

"...get to the point, Satsuki."

"So, no one expects anything from you at all. Nobody looks at you and says 'he's destined for greatness'. You radiate an aura of mediocrity even to strangers."

Kuroko passes her a sharp look. "If you don't get to the point this second I will-"

"What if you used it to your advantage?"

His fingers still on the book cover. "...how would I do that?"

"Well..." Momoi kicks her feet up carelessly. "Everyone in basketball is focusing on the ones who score. The shooters, the dunkers, you know. The flashy guys. The players who hardly get any notice whatsoever are the passers. Nobody cares who passes. They just want to see who scores."

The gears in Kuroko's head start to turn, and the haze filling his thoughts with red starts to clear. "That means..."

"If you became an excellent pass specialist, you would be unstoppable. Think about it-your absolute lack of any special characteristics would make you pretty much invisible to anyone who isn't actively trying to find you. And since no one looks twice at players who pass, nobody would be looking for you. You'd be an incredible asset, and Akashi would consider you irreplaceable. I'm sure of it."

Kuroko lights up at the mention of his perfect Akashi's name, and sits a little straighter. Irreplaceable to someone as beautiful as Akashi...it makes his heart flutter.

"I want to become a passing specialist."

A smile spreads across Momoi's face.

"Let's get to work, then."


	8. Agreement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if some of this feels a bit filler-y, i apologize in advance, i just wanted to really cement some roles in the story so please try to bear with me

Nijimura Shuzo was nothing if not observant. Being somewhat of a caretaker for the team's five prodigies, he's had his work cut out for him from day one, and he's dedicated himself to being the best captain and mentor he can be.

So, of course, he's the first to really take notice of the weird kid on the third string.

He heard about him in passing through classmate's gossip, talking about a ghost using the gym facilities after hours. He thought it was ridiculous at the time, and did his own investigating. Long story short, he was scared out of his wits when he opened the door he was sure there was someone behind only to see and hear nothing at all.

Eventually he came to the conclusion that there was no ghost, but rather a very sneaky person. What their motives may be for using the gym after hours was unknown to him and he had no leads, but he definitely knew someone who would.

"Momoi?"

Momoi's pink-haired head turns to give him a cheerful smile, and he catches a whiff of strawberry shampoo. "Hello, captain! What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you knew who was using the gym at night. They're starting to freak out the team and it's becoming a distraction."

She taps a pink pen on her bottom lip, cat-shaped charm making a jingling noise as it shakes. "If I remember correctly, there was a third-string player by the name of Kuroko Tetsuya that spoke about wanting to improve in his free time after school. It could be him."

Nijimura hums. "I don't remember that name being on the third string. Are you sure?"

"The kid has all the presence of an ant in a garden. He's practically unnoticeable unless he wants to scare you." She puffs out her cheeks, pouting cutely. "Which he has done a couple of times, that meanie."

Nijimura can't help a grin at her affronted huffing. "So he's the mischievous type, eh? Well, next time you see him please ask if he's the one who's been using the gym. If he is I'd like to have a chat with him."

Momoi gives him a salute. "Sure thing, captain!"

He laughs and resists the urge to ruffle her hair as he returns to his duties. 

Who would a leader be without a cute, endearing little helper?

Soon after, the team starts to pile in the doors for practice. The gym is engulfed in the sounds of laughter and basketball as free time begins. Nijimura allows himself a short period of meditation before calling for attendance. 

_Aomine, Murasakibara, Midorima, Akashi..._

His mood immediately heads south as the realizes that once again, a certain someone is missing from the assembly.

_Damned Haizaki..._

.  
.  
.

It wasn't that Haizaki hated basketball or anything. Actually he quite likes it. No, it's not the game itself that he loathes-it's the team itself.

Each and every one of them was an absolute fool, a complete and utter waste of space. Teamwork this, friendship that. What's the fun in that? Having friends isn't going to win your games-raw skill and the ability to throw underhand does. 

But nobody would listen to him. Every damned day, they come in preaching their stupid lovey dovey crap and it pisses him off like nothing else.

It's almost painful, really. Day in and day out he has to watch a bunch of absolute pansies take over the sport he loves, watching those same idiots get all the credit with half the passion for victory, meanwhile he's made out to be the bad guy just because he actually wants to win.

It's sickening.

So, naturally, instead of attending practice, he's taken to spending his time on the school roof, chucking rocks over the edge and somewhat hoping to hit something.

His phone rings, and he considers chucking that over the roof, too. No doubt it's Nijimura about to scream at him for shit that isn't his fault.

He lets out a groan and slumps against the wall. If only he were in charge. If it were up to him, the team would be less about playing to jerk each other off in the locker room after a game and more about actually playing to win. 

He's seriously losing his mind.

"Haizaki Shougo-kun?"

For a minute, he thinks someone's called up to him from the grounds. He looks around, only to see absolutely nothing. Frowning, he shrugs it off and continues to brood. 

Then, out of nowhere, a figure appears to his left, sitting cross-legged with his back as straight as a board. 

"I am addressing you, Haizaki-kun."

Haizaki just about jumps out of his skin. All but scampering away from the newcomer, he struggles to regain his composure.

The boy doesn't seem affected by his reaction in the least. No glimmer of amusement, no surprise of his own. Just...nothing. If you had told Haizaki the kid was a porcelain doll, he wouldn't have thought twice about it.

"What the hell?"

"I have been looking for you."

Creeped out beyond measure, Haizaki swallows hard and tries to calm his racing heart. "What...what for? Who the fuck are you?"

"I am Kuroko. I have seen you playing on the basketball team. You play with fervor, yet you seem to dispassionate. Almost as though you crave something...more."

"Oh, you think you're a smart guy, huh?" Haizaki stands, glaring down at the doll-like boy still staring at him with those icy, cold blue eyes. "Well, I don't want to fucking hear it. You've got nothing to say I haven't heard a hundred times before from that motherfucking Nijimura. Get lost."

"I'm inclined to disagree, Haizaki-kun."

"Fuck off. If you're not leaving, I'm going to. I don't need to sit here and listen to you blather."

As Haizaki stomps off, Kuroko leans his head on one hand, unblinking. His eyes bore holes into Haizaki's back, and he can see the first-stringer shiver. 

"What if I told you I could make you captain?"

That makes Haizaki's angry footsteps slow into a stop. He turns and looks backward, reluctantly meeting the eyes of the strange doll boy. "You couldn't do that. Don't lie to me, you're pissing me off."

"I do not tell lies." Kuroko relaxes his posture. "Haizaki Shougo-kun...you desire power. You desire victory. Most of all, you desire to be heard. I can bring to you all of that and more."

Could he really? Haizaki's mind runs rampant with thoughts of finally being heard the way he's always deserved. To have the others, so smug and full of themselves, kneeling at his feet as they rightfully should. That thought alone is enough to make him consider the words of the boy before him.

"...there's a catch. There's always a catch. What's in it for you?"

"All I ask in return...is for three favors, no questions. Three favors, and all the power that you deserve will come to you. I promise you that."

"...three favors...what do you want?"

"For now, there is nothing that I require from you. All I am asking for now is your agreement. All you need to do..." a smile cracks its way onto pale, porcelain cheeks. "...is say 'yes'."

Haizaki swallows hard. His pocket heavy with rocks from the grounds suddenly feels light as a feather as the world's pressure increases around him. He could be strong. He could be powerful. He could be everything he's ever wanted to be. All for three favors? It's too good to be true...or is it? He swallows again and wills himself to speak.

"...yeah. Alright. Fine. I'll do it."

The plastic smile only widens. "Excellent choice."

Nijimura's incessant calling comes to a complete stop minutes later, and he can only assume that he's finally given up.

.  
.  
.

Aomine's been noticing lately that Momoi has been looking a bit more intense these days. She watches them like the hawk she is during their practices, and it's honestly starting to freak him out.

"Yo, Satsuki. What's your deal today?" he calls out. She starts as though she hadn't been expecting to be addressed.

"Oh! Sorry, Dai-I mean...Aomine-kun." She gives him an over-the-top wink, and he audibly groans. "I'm just thinking about something the captain said."

"Eh? What'd he say?"

"Well...he's saying that some of the guys on the team are getting freaked out over a supposed ghost in one of the unused gyms. They say they can hear someone practicing in there, but no one is around when they go looking. It sounds pretty scary."

"Hmm...a basketball-playing ghost, huh? Sounds pretty cool, actually. D'you think it'd play me one-on-one if I asked it to?"

Momoi puffs with confidence. "Aomine-kun doesn't have the guts to confront a ghost head-on!"

A vein pops in Aomine's temple. "Oh, yeah? You think so, huh? Well, I'm gonna go see it tonight and ask it to play me! I'll show you!"

"I can't wait to see Aomine-kun run away crying!" 

"As if!"

The childish bickering continues, and a few other members laugh to themselves. 

"They really are childhood friends, huh..." Murasakibara drawls. "They're confusing...they say mean stuff but they're not being mean..."

A soft chuckle comes from his side. "When people are close like that, their way of communication changes. If they spoke this way to anyone else, I'm sure it wouldn't be endearing as it is here."

"...Aka-chin uses a lot of big words..."

Akashi gives him a slight smile. "You may complain, but you understood it all. You are smarter than you seem, after all."

"Hmmm..." Murasakibara sighs. "Aka-chin is too smart."

Akashi begins to reply, but is cut off by the sound of a basketball colliding with Aomine's skull and the consequent sound of him squawking as he falls to the ground in a heap. 

"Satsuki, you witch!" 

"Don't call me fat, you big jerk!"

The pair continues to make a fuss, and Akashi stares on in amusement. 

"They have such a nice relationship, don't they?"

"...if you say so..."

Moments later, the doors suddenly open, drawing the attention of nearly the whole team. To their amazement, Haizaki Shougo walks in the door, hands in his pockets as if he hadn't almost completely blown off practice yet again. Nijimura looks angry enough to fuel the entire country on rage-power alone. Haizaki, true to his nonchalant character, barely looks phased at all.

"'Sup."

"Wha-don't ''sup' me! Where were you?!" Nijimura barks.

"Just thinkin'." Haizaki kicks at the ground. "I've been doing that a lot lately, actually. I've been...frustrated."

A bit of Nijimura's anger ebbs away, replaced with confusion. "Frustrated?"

"Yeah...I guess I just felt like I haven't been listened to very much. It made me not want to play anymore. But I thought it over and I decided that I want to play anyway." Haizaki's face pinches. "I...love basketball, after all. Doesn't matter if I'm the front runner."

He slinks off into the locker room to get changed, Nijimura gawking at him all the way. Murasakibara glares, and gives a grumpy huff.

"People are confusing."

Akashi nods, slow and solemn. "Yes, they are...confusing and fascinating all in one."

Not a single person in the room takes notice of the steely blue gaze from the shadows.

_Soon...Akashi-kun..._


End file.
